


Good to be Home

by Ichabodjane



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichabodjane/pseuds/Ichabodjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a high powered business woman can be tough.  But its not so bad when you have someone to come home to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good to be Home

**Author's Note:**

> This was a response to a Tumblr prompt: "Clexa: Boo."

It was only Tuesday, but Lexa was already exhausted. To be fair, she was exhausted a lot. Working at a high-powered investment firm would do that to you. And it wasn't as though her hard work didn't pay off. She had been promoted through the ranks faster than any other employee in the company's history, or so they said, and she had the corner office to prove it. She also had the aching feet, pounding head, and killer under-eye shadows to prove it, too.

Lexa wasn't one to complain but even by her standards, this Tuesday had been more aggravating than most. Her usual subway route had been delayed, forcing her to run for at least two connecting trains. Then Grayson, that idiot blue blood frat boy in her department, had completely dropped the ball on his assigned project, which meant that she had spent half the day on the phone with one of their biggest clients while said client reamed her out from his private island in the Caribbean. Then she had spent the other half of the day scrambling around to get the stupid project done. She did, however, get to call Grayson into her office for a severe dressing down. Lexa had to admit, the terror in his eyes had almost made up for his complete incompetency. Almost.

But now her feet were tired and swollen in their designer shoes and her stupid tights were itching like hell and it was cold and dreary and she was still several blocks from the apartment. It was days like this that she envied her girlfriend, Clarke. Clarke was an artist and got to work from home, which seemed like a damn good gig. She got up when she felt like it, ate when she felt like it, played music when she felt like it... Hell, most days Clarke didn't even put on real-people pants. (She insisted that sweatpants were “good for the creative juices.”) But when her muse showed up, she could work even longer hours than Lexa. She had lost count of how many times she had had to drag Clarke away from a sketchbook or a canvas and force her to eat at least twice a day and shower at least once a week. Still, it was her artistic soul that had made Lexa fall in love with her in the first place and it was still one of the things she loved about her the most.

Lexa heaved a sigh of relief as she turned the corner onto their street and an even bigger sigh when she reached the warmth of the lobby. Maybe she'd have a bath tonight, she thought as the elevator rattled its way up to the top floor. Maybe she could convince Clarke to have a bath tonight, she smirked to herself as she put her key in the apartment door.

Stepping inside, she went to call Clarke's name but stopped when she saw her girlfriend's bright blonde hair peeking over the back of the couch. Lexa could hear the steady scritch-scritch-scratch of pencil on paper. Clarke didn't look up as she came in, which wasn't a surprise. Often, Clarke got so involved in her art that it was like the rest of the world didn't exist at all. It was hard to tell how long she had been sitting there. Could have been five minutes. Could have been five hours. Lexa briefly considered just heading right to the bathroom and leaving her to it. Then again, Lexa was in the mood for a bit of fun. Slipping off her shoes, she tiptoed across the room, avoiding all the squeaky spots on the floor. As she got closer, she could see the sketchpad on Clarke's knees. She was drawing a forest in the moonlight, a common theme for her. Nothing she couldn't stop and pick up again. Which was lucky, because Lexa was right behind her now, her mouth mere inches from Clarke's ear.

“Boo.”

The resulting panicked shriek was enough to send Lexa into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. She tumbled over the back of the couch and into Clarke so that they both ended up in a heap on the floor, Clarke still clutching her heart and gasping out every insult she could think of.

Yes, it was good to be home.


End file.
